


i cleaned my living room for like 20 minutes

by malevon



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, v mild gore kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malevon/pseuds/malevon
Summary: sometimes you’re alone when things go to shit





	i cleaned my living room for like 20 minutes

It’s about 10:37 when Sadie’s phone lights up from her night stand, and she grabs it curiously, only to see the text from Oliver. She narrows her eyes against the bright white of the messenger app.

_”Are your parents home”_

She can’t help but laugh. 

_“ooh oliver! what’s that supposed to mean” “you can’t just ask something like that so late in the evening ;)”_

_”Sadie”_ comes the response almost immediately. She frowns, something pricking in the back of her mind briefly, but it’s gone just as soon as it appeared. The typing bubble stays on the screen for another few seconds, and before he can send another message, she taps out a quick _”no”._

His typing bubble disappears, then there’s an _”Okay”._ The two of them fall silent then, and Sadie turns onto her side away from her nightstand. She stares at his messages, wondering why he needed to know. He’s probably coming over to do some research, but it’s late, and Oli isn’t one for unplanned arrivals, despite the fact that Sadie, more often than not, shows up unannounced to his house. His family has gotten used to it, and they keep insisting that she doesn’t have to come in through his window, and yet, she finds that to be the cooler option every time.

She turns off her phone then, putting it on her pillow and flipping onto her back, staring at the ceiling. She’s not going to be able to sleep until she knows what’s up. Frustrated, she grabs her phone again, typing out _“why?”._ He still hasn’t said anything, and she waits about a minute for the typing bubble to appear, or a response, or basically anything, and in return for her patience, she gets nothing. 

In one quick motion, Sadie throws the covers off of herself, slinging her legs over the side of the bed and hitting the call button. She has no reason to be this worried about him, she realizes as she puts the phone up to her ear and listens to the first rings, but she can’t help it. Something is wrong. He doesn’t pick up. 

“Oliver, you asshole,” she mutters, throwing her phone back on the mattress. There’s nothing she can do now but sit dejectedly in the edge of her bed, Sadie realizes with great disappointment. 

She stays like that for a moment before the chill of the air conditioning gets to her. Sighing, Sadie nestles back under her covers, her phone readily near her hand just in case. She can attempt again to go to sleep (she hadn’t been sleeping when he texted, it was a Friday night and lord knows she wasn’t even all that tired) but something just doesn’t feel right to her. Maybe it was nothing. It didn’t feel like nothing.

She can’t sleep, she decides when she checks her phone and it’s 11:04 and there’s no new notifications.

And then suddenly, it’s 11:05 and there’s a heavy knock at her door and she’s rushing to open it.

The front door tears open, and surely enough, there’s Oli, smiling at the sight of her and standing there as if nothing is wrong, as if Sadie didn’t just give him a quick once-over and see a shallow cut on his side and a patch of red hair near his ear. His glasses are gone, and his eyes are a lot bigger then they usually are. 

She notices these things and her body goes on autopilot, grabbing him by the shoulder and yanking him into her house, leading him into her bathroom and flicking the lights on. She sits him down on the edge of the bathtub. He’s trying to talk to her, but all Sadie can see is the little red circles on her white tile floor.

“It’s really not that bad,” he keeps trying to insist. He smiles the whole time while she presses a wet towel on his temple, handing him another to press against his side. When he stops putting pressure on it to try and get her attention, she throws him a glare, and he continues. 

“Why didn’t you call me? Text me? Anything?” she asks first, after she’s done assuring herself that he’s fine. The cut’s not that serious, and he’s being reactive and coherent, so his head couldn’t have been hit that hard, she decides.

He huffs. “It’s hard to really send out a text message when there’s a wraith in your house, Sadie,” he says, and the blood in her veins runs ice cold. 

“Did you see anything?” she asks immediately. This isn’t the most pressing issue, she’ll think later, but it’s the first thing to come to mind. His eyes go downcast, but come back up a moment later. He shakes his head no. 

“Nothing too bad,” he huffs a laugh through his nose. He’s such a terrible liar, and Sadie knows it, and Oliver knows that Sadie knows it, too. She won’t press him any more about it.

“You said it got in your house?”

“Yeah,” he says, and he winces when Sadie presses a little too hard trying to part his hair to look at the wound. She whispers a quick apology before he continues. “I’m just glad no one else was home. It made a huge mess in our living room and I had to clean it up before I came over here.”

This surprises her. “How long have you been bleeding for?”

Oliver pauses, thinking. “The whole thing happened about an hour ago. I don’t know. I just remember cleaning really hard for, like, 20 minutes, then immediately driving over here. With no glasses, mind you.” 

“You’re impossible.”

“I made it here in one piece, right?”

“Not really, Oliver.”

“Yeah, alright.”

They fall into silence again, the only noise the air conditioner and Oliver’s occasional huff against the pain in his side. Sadie abandons the wet towel on the floor, moving it around with her foot to wipe up the little circles of blood on her floor that make her want to gag.

She turns to look at him. He’s still busy nursing his side, his pale yellow shirt stained and torn. The sight of it makes a chill go down her spine. She needs to get out.

“I’ll get you a shirt. Bandages are under the sink,” Sadie says curtly, swinging around the doorframe to go back to her room. She has some of her dad’s old shirts that she uses as pajamas sometimes that should fit him, she thinks, grabbing one from her closet and pausing. What is going on?

A wraith got in Oli’s house and attacked him. And also his living room. He drove to her house with no glasses and is now sitting in her bathroom bleeding all over her white bathtub. Alright. That’s a reasonable enough explanation to ground her again, and when Sadie walks back in, Oli is finishing up wrapping bandages around his middle, the bottom of his shirt held in his teeth. Sadie throws the new shirt at him, and he jumps, his hands coming in front of his face and his eyes going wide. Sadie droops. 

“Sorry about that,” she says earnestly, frowning. Oliver grins and shrugs, putting the shirt to the side and going back to tying the bandage. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

Sadie looks at him for another moment before going to sit on the floor in front of him. He finishes up, then puts his chin in his hands and his elbows on his lap, looking down at her with a funny look in his eyes.

Oli laughs suddenly, and Sadie can’t help but grin with him. “What is it?”

“I can’t see shit.” He laughs again, and Sadie laughs with him. “I could barely see shit when I was fighting it, either! They fell off when I hit my head on the table.”

“What did you kill it with?” Sadie asks eagerly, around her giggles.

“I had to fucking run to my car and get my pole. The damn thing followed me outside and it was so dark I couldn’t even see it.”

“So what, were you just flailing around until you killed it?”

“Yeah pretty much!” Oli confirms, and he falls into a fresh bout of laughter. “Then it—“ he laughs, “it made me see shit.”

Sadie doesn’t laugh.

“I knew you weren’t there, I knew that, I promise I knew that wasn’t really you—“

“Oliver—“

He covers his mouth with his hand, his other going to his side as he sputters. “If I had thought it was you, I wouldn’t have... Sadie, I couldn’t _see_ , I didn’t mean to—“

“Oliver, listen to me,” Sadie says, leaning forward and putting her forehead on his knee. “It’s fine. I promise. I understand.” 

He stops talking, and for a long moment, he is quiet. Sadie can hear the occasional sniffle from above her that breaks the silence, and then there’s a shuffle and there’s a hand in her hair, and she shudders, thinking about what the damn monster made him see.

“I was so fucking scared,” Oliver whispers, and Sadie closes her eyes. She knows, she understands, but she doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t—I wasn’t—“

“You can stop, Oli,” she says, and puts a hand on his other knee, rubbing circles with her thumb. He heaves a big breath, and then after a while of silence, with Sadie’s hand on his knee and Oliver’s hand in her hair, he laughs again, and she looks up. 

“Can I stay here?”

“Of course you can.”

“Will you come over tomorrow and help me clean my house? And also my car?”

Sadie laughs then, a genuine one. “Yeah, Oli. I’ll help you clean your house and your car. But you have to help me clean up my bathroom tomorrow, too.”

“It’s a deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is EXTREMELY indulgent and maybe ooc??? idk what this is ! sadie belongs to @heartrendingsniper on tumblr !


End file.
